


Princes of the Universe

by BeatlessMelody



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Do I love my ocs?, F/M, Is this good?, M/M, NHL All-Star Game, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Polyam relationship - Freeform, Roman is an asshole, alcohol mention, also no, and mario has millionare based insecurity, ft an assorted array of hockey players, idk why im actually posting this but here we are, in honor of the asg, in which marc misses fleury, is this edited?, no, nobody be mean about this i wrote this only for myself, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatlessMelody/pseuds/BeatlessMelody
Summary: The best of the best gather, for the first time or the fifth. All star weekend is all fun and games until people start acting like idiots.
Relationships: OC/OC, matt martin/oc, mitch marner/matt martin/oc, mitch marner/oc
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Princes of the Universe

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to know anything about my ocs or like. Even what team they're all on just lmk

“Obviously I wasn’t surprised when I was named captain. It’s the only reasonable step up from the A I had last year.” 

All-Star weekend was in full swing. 44 of the best of the best gathered together to prove once and for all which division was the king, until it all reset next year, of course.

But first, interviews—Constant and annoying and so time consuming. It was time that Mario would much rather spend doing anything else. Literally. But he was almost done, fucking finally, and then he would be free to eye up the competition— or rather, ‘hang out’ with the team given to him. If he could survive the sheer idiocy of the reporters crowding him, that is. 

“Does anyone have any questions actually worth my time?”

He could feel management cringing from here.

~|~

“Oh yeah for sure, it’s an honour to be chosen for the all star game! And being on a team with Price and Stamkos? Fuckin’ ace! Shit, am I allowed to swear?” 

Running his mouth was something Elijah did well. The defenseman's entire attitude far more open than any reporter would ever be used to— he was certain that the local media felt stiffed with how much easier Elijah was answering these questions.   
But how could he not show his excitement, his pride? To be standing in the shoes of giants. To represent his team, and his home, as one of the best—

Eyes searched the slight chaos of media, finding those he had been drafted with. Four years ago the NHL had been a dream, and now here they were at the goddamn all star game. However much he dreamed, he hadn’t thought that he could make it here.

Snapping back to the present, Elijah gifted a sorry smile to the waiting reporter

“—What was the question again?”

~|~

“Five dollars if you can do fan challenge without getting recognized.” Olli’s voice grinned over Matthias’ shoulder. Encouraging mischief at a time that mischief shouldn’t be encouraged.

“You don’t even have five dollars, you just spent it on that burger.” Matthias gestured vaguely to the plate forgotten on the table nearby, where Seguin was eyeing the fries left over with a gaze unsuited for a multi-millionaire.

“Hm. Give minute—— LUCA!” 

Olli scrambled off as quickly as he appeared, leaving Matt alone waiting for his turn to deal with the autograph table. 

Unfortunately for him, Olli did not take an hour and a half to convince Luca to give him the money. Matthias wasn’t as disappointed as he made it seem. 

A bet is a bet, and though Matthias had time to call it off, he didn’t. Instead donning a hat pulled low over his eyes, and a sweatshirt that made him nearly formless.

He didn’t make it long, as absolutely ruining every fan that tried the accuracy shooting challenge probably wasn’t the best way to stay under the radar. But that was fine with him, even with the sudden, nearly overwhelming mob of fans that rushed over. Matthias took as many pictures as he could before security urged him away from the mess.

Giving Olli five dollars had never felt so satisfying.

~|~

The music thumped. Alcohol free flowing to a point that Olli, if he was a better man, would be worried about the group competing tomorrow. But he wasn’t a better man, and tomorrow was so far away. Sentiments echoed by the voice warbling over the speakers. 

A shot was pushed into Olli’s empty hand, and it was downed without hesitation. Grinning at the burn down his throat. 

He was alive. They were alive. Laughter, bright and pure, bubbled from his throat. Eyes closing to take it in.

Olli was a goddamn All-Star. Beating out those who had been in the league for so much longer than him. Olli had always known he was destined for greatness, it was just in his blood. But this. Christ, it was more than he imagined.

Sidling up behind his teammate, Olli bent uncomfortably to rest his chin upon Travis’ shoulder. An affectionate, drunk kiss pressed to his cheek. 

“How much alcohol?” 

“Enough to last ‘til the end of the damn world, Ol.” Olli couldn’t see Travis grin, but he could feel it. 

“Party until it ends, then.” 

~|~

They were all idiots, every single one. But Luca did think such things with as much affection as he could muster when out of everyone who came, he came the closest to sober. 

Phone out, fingers typed out a quick message.

Text to Wifey: I’ll be back after ur asleep probably. TK and Olli are shitfaced and they might die if I leave early :( Love you

Luca didn’t have the chance to wait for a reply from Marci, not when even over the music raised voices could be heard. Anger bursting at the seams and coming apart as soon as alcohol touched it.

It did figure that they couldn’t get through two days without a fight. Luca was not surprised when he pushed through to come face to face with the scene in front of him. 

Luca himself wasn’t that old. A mere 26, but he felt so much older than the rest. Older than the pride filling the younger guys’ hearts, older than all of this. But these fights were a part of the charm..he supposed. And Christ, had becoming a father increased his paternal instinct to new heights. 

Luca would not get in between, yet. Would not stop the snapping words thrown at each other. No, it was better to let them get it out of their systems now, and not during the game that was coming up oh so quickly. 

If fists were thrown, he or one of the vets would stop it. But nothing was to be done about words.

~|~

  
“Shut your damn mouth or I’m gonna shut it the fuck up for you.” 

Of all the people Roman could have chosen to pick a fight with, it does make sense that he would choose one of the angriest motherfuckers he had ever seen on ice… But he hadn’t realized that the anger would translate off ice as well, nor that Mario would be so goddamn easy to rile up.

“Awe, did I hit a nerve? I’m not wrong though, goddamn, I’m not even sure how you became a captain in the first place. Should of been Stamkos, can’t say that you don’t agree.” 

Okay, yes. Roman was doing it on purpose. Was goading Mario into anger just because it was funny. But nobody was really trying to stop him. Only trying to stop them from physically going at it, which was smart, considering Mario was already straining against the grip Marner had on his bicep.

Fucking dumbass. 

“I am your captain, you can’t talk to me like this, unless you want me to knock you out.”

“You’re not my anything, actually. I don’t know if you forgot, or if you’re really just that stupid. But I’m not on your team, I’m not even in your fucking division. The only thing you are to me, is a forward with an overwhelming sense of ego.” It was far too easy, Roman couldn’t help the grin that spread across his lips. Alcohol made him bold. “If anyone is my captain for these days, it’s Connor goddamn McDavid—hate saying that, but it’s true. You ain’t shit, plumber boy.”

Mario lunged forward, and was immediately yanked back by Marner. Couldn’t have them tearing at each other’s throats when it was too late for a backup to be sent in. 

“You have an attitude like a fucking ten year old. Go back to minors, you’re not ready for the big leagues, kiddo.” Mario’s words snarled. Roman didn’t have the chance to answer before a large hand clamped over his mouth— recoiling with a noise of disgust when Roman licked the palm. 

“Enough. You’re both acting like idiots. Go fuck off to opposite ends of the party, or stop bitching.” Evidently, Luca has had enough. The tone he took on not leaving the slightest room for continuation— to the normal person, anyways. But it didn’t stop Roman, even as the crowd cleared around them, and Mario was finally turning away.

“You couldn’t make the roster three times after your draft. You went first overall and you couldn’t break into the Edmonton fucking Oilers roster, and they were shit.” A pause, a glance towards McDavid “—no offense.”

McDavid had his own brief pause, before a resigned shrug. “None taken, we’re still far from champions..don’t tell Leon.”

Attention turned back to Mario, who had stopped in his tracks with his back turned to Roman. 

“And even in the minors, how many times did you touch the Memorial Cup in those years as captain? Once? You’re overcompensating now, and for what? We all know how you started.”

For a few beats there was nothing. No sound, only the pounding bass of the music that was little more than white noise. 

And then Mario was launching himself at Roman, turning so fast that he barely even noticed. Two bodies went crashing to the ground, and immediately came a fist. Punching down as Roman still struggled to catch his breath after the surprise fall.

Only twice did punches fall before Marner— at least, Roman thought it was Marner with his vision blurring with pain— scooped Mario up and off by his midsection, carrying him away and surely out of the party as Mario kicked and hissed to be let go of.

Romans left canine had been knocked loose. The other punch had been less, and the only true damage it would leave would be bruising upon his cheekbone. 

Roman didn’t notice who helped him up, clapping them blindly on the shoulder before that very same hand was pulling the canine from his gums. His grin a bloody mess.

“Hell of a puncher, I’ll give him that.”

~|~

  
Marc found out about the party the next day. How Cole had accidentally broken a window and tried to blame it on Hutton (who was now saddled with the repair bill), Marchand doing body shots off of Seguin and nobody getting a video. The fight that broke out between Mario and Roman— he almost regretted not going. But not really.

“Trading in a chain for a piece of plastic, huh? Suits you better.” Marc’s chirp towards Roman didn’t hold any true venom, nor much of any emotion at all. Not that Roman seemed to notice - or rather, he just goddamn ignored it. As always.

“Bro, it’s so much better than just a piece of plastic.” Roman drew closer as he spoke, gliding across the ice as he pulled the plastic chain from his jersey.

“I used to get those in elementary school.” Marc’s words kept the same level of deadpan. 

It was a tooth shaped container, held none so securely around Romans neck by a piece of blue plastic string that would absolutely snap by the end of the day. Honest to God, Marc hadn’t seen one of those since he lost his first tooth in the middle of the school day so long ago. “Where did you even get one of those?”

“Doesn’t matter where. Issa good luck charm now.” Roman grinned, showing off the space where his canine used to be. Marc wondered if he would get a fake tooth, or just embrace his true hockey smile, and then realized he really didn’t care.

Skating away without another word, Marc was soon drawn to the bench. Specifically, where Fleury was chatting and laughing with Crosby- who ignored the jealous glares with a grace that was truly unfair.

“Mon lapinou!” Fleury’s grin soothed something deep in Marc’s chest, as it always did, as it always would. No longer was Fleury his mentor, but still the dependence ached in Marc’s very being. It had been fading slower than he would have liked.

“Think you could show me some moves? Wanna kick your ass at save streak.”

~|~

It was a bitch move to put him in this category. That was all Cole could think as he raced around the rink. Pushing his limits best he could. Speed had never been his strong suit, and it didn’t need to be— this competition was rigged, it had been decided within Coles own mind.

Slow or not, Cole didn’t do the worst that he could have. Third to last wasn’t that bad, or so he told himself.

Somewhere off ice he could hear his brothers booing and jeering. Completely forgetting that he was on live television, a glove was pulled off solely for the purpose of flipping the bastards off once they were spotted. Obviously, he got immediately scolded as he got off ice. Not that it really stuck with him. Any attention was good attention, and with the jostling and amusement he was receiving from the players around him, he had done something to earn approval.

Really, it was the leagues fault for letting him break into it so young. This was on them. 

~|~

Mario hadn’t won all of his sections, which was bad enough for someone who put so much pride into being the best. It was worse that Crosby won puck control. Fuck it, Mario hated that Crosby was even in the damn competition. All in good fun or not, Mario was gonna lay him out tomorrow. And that was a damn promise. 

Blades glided over smoothed ice, taking in the scene around him. The friend groups smiling and laughing with each other, inside jokes passed around with no way of decoding them. Luca was with his family, two toddlers who Mario could only assume were his sons struggling along with him on their skates. A glance towards the bench revealed his eldest daughter talking excitedly with a girl not much older that Mario didn’t recognize.

His own brothers were painfully absent, but it was better that way. God knows they would find some way to embarrass him, even if he had made it so much further than either of them. It hurt more that his mother hadn’t shown, but it was busy back in Victoria. And she had her own team to coach, she wasn’t only Mario’s anymore. It was fine. 

“You good?” Mario wasn’t sure when Hall had appeared beside him, or how long he had been waiting there. 

“We aren’t friends, shut up.” Mario snapped back, hackles raised at the sudden intrusion into his personal space. Especially by someone who had never truly been his teammate, someone who hadn’t shown Mario anything but neutral disinterest when they had shared a line in his doomed preseasons with the Oilers. 

“Missed you too.” Hall scoffed, and Mario didn’t respond to the words said after Hall started skating away. “Fucking prick.”

A deep breath, held for five seconds before being released, and Mario was alright. Mind full of memories that seemed to be from so long ago. He barely noticed as he moved across the ice, finding himself by Mitch’s side. He didn’t take his hand like he wanted, but instead rested his forehead against Mitch’s shoulder, successfully ignoring the smell of sweat that clung to jerseys so well.

“Are you alright?” Mitch’s voice was as soft as Mario was sure his expression was. Not that he could currently see it, mind you.

“I will be, yup. Don’t worry about it.” Even saying that, Mario knew he would be cornered tonight. But at least Matt wasn’t here to worry himself to death as well. 

~|~

“On fucking God if you touch my smoothie I’m going to kill you where you stand, Marchand.” The words Elijah spoke were said with a grin to his friend on the bench. Brad merely winking and chugging some down anyways. Not that Elijah cared, he had enough, and they were basically done for the day anyways. Nothing off his back. 

Shuffling awkwardly through the multitude of players on the bench— Elijah cooed as he reached his ..not-friend.

“Ma-arc-y.” 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if Marc was friends with anyone. It certainly didn’t seem it, and the deathly glare he received from the goalie only seemed to reinforce the thought. 

“Do you need something?” Marc’s words continued to be as deadpan as his expression had been the entire competition. But it didn’t faze Elijah, not truly.

“Yeah, actually. I was just talking to Bish, and he said that for good luck I needed a kiss from a goalie.” Elijah barely let the words sink in before he was leaning over towards Marc, lips pursed invitingly. He didn’t get far before Marc’s stick was hitting directly on the side of his helmet. Hard enough to make Elijah’s ears ring, but not hard enough to truly hurt. 

Even Marc knew that the competition didn’t need even more trouble caused. So instead of any true reaction, Elijah just burst out laughing, which only grew louder at the disgusted, flustered expression painting Marc’s face so prominently as the goalie skated away from him. 

It wasn’t as if most of them were friends. Acquainted at most for the majority, but it was hard not to try and forge friendships. Even if it wasn’t welcome, even if Elijah sometimes did it to only annoy his fellow all-stars. 

  
~|~

“Have you ever—have you ever thought about not being the worst person alive?” Roman groaned from where his head was stuffed under one of the many overstuffed pillows provided by the hotel hosting them. An effort to block out the music McDavid was blasting from his own bed across the room.

“Have you ever thought about blocking a shot?” Came the immediate snap back, Roman could nearly hear the roll of his temporary captains eyes. 

“One day you’re gonna go into a wall and break your leg, and on that day it’ll be my absolute pleasure to drive to Edmonton, and personally laugh in your face.” Roman was tired, truly. The adrenaline of the fight last night and the competition had worn off, and truly now all he wanted to do was sleep. Roman wasn’t Christian, but he still swore that God had it out for him by sticking him in a room with Connor fucking McDavid for two nights. They had semi gotten along last night— but alcohol had also been involved. “If you come near me tomorrow I’m taking your legs out.”

Roman lifted the pillow now to squint towards where McDavid was lounging. Annoyed that the forward even could annoy him.

“You have baby arms, I’m surprised you can even lift your stick, Frosty.” McDavid didn’t flinch, but Roman got pleasure from the annoyance playing on his features. And got even more pleasure when the pillow Roman threw hit his mark square in the face. 

“I fucking hate you.”

“Love you too.” He heard McDavid call as Roman stormed out of the room. Ignoring the laughter from inside as the door slammed behind him.

~|~

“Go fish.”

“You fucking bitch. You’re lying.” Matthias couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer offence drenching Cole’s tone. 

“Why the fuck would I lie about Go Fish, idiot. Fish or die.” Came Marchessaults easy comment. Honestly, Matthias hadn’t realized a children’s game could get so intense, but apparently it could, and it certainly was. He almost regretted hosting the small party of 7–including himself, in his room. He stayed away from the life-or-death Go Fish round, taking up residence on the unused second bed. Hall was too busy staring at his cards to use it anyways.

Most of the group came from the influx of Cole’s brothers. Four Martens in total pushing and knocking at each other and giving Matthias a headache. 

It didn’t help when there was a sudden, incessant pounding upon the hotel door. Matthias didn’t get up. There were enough people, they didn’t need someone else. But Hall did, because of course he did. Bastard.

When the door opened, it wasn’t a surprise to see Roman burst in. The offset of bleached hair and the red flush on his face almost making Matthias laugh. Almost.

“I’m going to kill Connor fucking McDavid.” Roman’s tone perfectly matched the expression that twisted on his face. Anger in a form purer than anything Matthias had ever seen previous.

“Alright, cool. We’re playing Go Fish, so—“ Matthias’ head tilted, and Roman only groaned and flopped himself over Matthias’ outstretched legs, weirdly tangled in a mess of limbs that he never minded. They had been roommates all that time ago at the draft, this was nothing new, even if it had been awhile. So Matthias just started petting through the goalies hair, still mostly ignoring everyone in favour of his phone screen. Valid enough, in his mind. “You gonna join next round?”

“Do I look like I want to play a game for babies?” Roman groaned, shoving Matthias’ hand away as he straightened up on the bed. Watching the game the next bed over with a truly pathetic mixture of a scowl and a pout. 

“Your loss, I’d love another person to kick the ass of.” Matthias didn’t remember the name of the Martens brother that was speaking, but that wouldn’t stay a problem as Cole shoved the other to the ground.

“You’re losing, Zach, shut your whore mouth.” 

“You’re all dumbasses.” Matthias couldn’t say he didn’t agree with Romans scathing words, even if he would have said it with a bit more of a smile.

~|~

Hotels were never quiet. And that was one of the best parts about them. Mario didn’t need to worry about being left with nothing but his thoughts, no matter how the hotel website boasted about the serene spaces provided it was never quite so. Especially not when a team was there, and more than certainly not when 44 hockey players were all boarded together. 

But it was quiet enough, for now. With Mitch’s fingertips tracing the spattering of freckles that covered Mario’s bare back, not yet disappeared in the cold of the season. Though he was sure it wouldn’t be long until they were gone with the sun. Mario’s eyes were closed, focusing completely on the goosebumps raising where the fingers traced. Serenity, or at least the closest Mario had felt to serenity in awhile now, intrupted suddenly by a FaceTime request, echoing through the semi-silence of the room. Mario didn’t move a muscle as Mitch leaned over to take hold of his phone and find out who the caller was. He didn’t even open his eyes until the chiming stopped and a familiar voice replaced it. 

“Mar, are you doing alright?” Matt’s voice was close to his face, and so Mario’s eyes opened to see the phone held in front of him. Sideways on the bed and held by Mitch. He shifted to grab the phone, shuffling awkwardly to lead Mitch’s hand to his hair now, instead. 

“I’m fine, Mitch shouldn’t of texted you.” It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. And Mario’s one saving grace of his most worrisome boyfriend not being at the game was no longer valid. Snake. “The weekend is just tiring, that’s it. You know how media gets, I’m just tired.” 

At least Mario had Mitch’s hand running through the length of his hair. From damp roots to the unruly waves that tangled around Mitch’s fingers as he went. At least that offset the disappointment he could see in Matt’s face at nothing but a little white lie.

It was hard to lie to him.

“You’ll be home soon, then it’ll be better. We’ll get some rest, no media.” 

“Until we start road tripping again.” Mitch piped up, muffled with his lips against Mario’s neck. It was anything but helpful, though neither Mario nor Matt said a thing. 

“Yeah, sure. See you soon.” Was Mario’s only reply. He was already hanging up when Matt’s ‘I love you.’ cracked through the speakers.

Turning to face Mitch, he pressed his forehead against his shoulder. Eyes closing once more. “Why does he always have to do that.”

“Do what?” Mitch sounded confused, his fingers tracing slowly up and down upon the nape of Mario’s neck. 

“Saying he loves me, all that shit. It’s just unnecessary.”

“He does love you, though? I love you too, nerd ass.” Mario was sure Mitch could feel his muscles tense against him. But he didn’t pull away.

“—Okay, Marner. Sure.” Perhaps it was mean to scoff, and with the way Mitch forced Mario’s head up to make eye contact, he certainly felt it was so. But instead of angry words, he was merely given a featherlight kiss on the forehead.

“I do, we do. And we’ll be here whether you accept that love or not. Just chill out about it.”

~|~

“Hand to God I don’t know what was in the water last night, but the twins would not go down. I got home at 2am and they were still up. Shit, I felt bad for Marci.” Luca’s head shook, chugging down some of the beer in his bottle as Carey nodded, eyes on the empty space in front of the karaoke machine that a few of the boys had claimed. TK was clinging to Olli’s shoulders in a piggyback ride, both singing loudly in English and French to a song that Luca didn’t recognize. It wasn’t hard to see why Carey was so distracted. 

“My girl went down easy, sucks for you. It was probably just a bad night, though. They’re still young, right?” Carey’s head tilted back as the rest of the bottle was drained of beer. “Another?”

Luca nodded at the question, swirling what little liquid was left in the bottom before running lithe fingers through his hair. Tugging a little to get through the knots forming. “Yup. They’re 3, most times they sleep through the night by now but fuck—“ Luca accepted the beer given to him, not quite cracking it open just yet. “Probably just a lot of excitement, but it’s fucking annoying sometimes.”

Carey laughed, tapping the bottom of the bottle lightly against the table in half hearted encouragement to the karaoke that was coming close to drowning the conversation out. “Gotta love ‘em, the little shits.” 

The karaoke group was growing bigger. Luca spotting Ovechkin and Subban in the mix, as well as others he couldn’t quite recognize from this distance. Nodding briefly in their direction, Luca’s eyes turned to Carey. “Should we join them?” 

At least that turned Carey’s neutral expression to a smile, Carey’s bottle tipping against the one held in Luca’s own hands in a cheers that was completely lost in the sudden laughter from the other group as someone tried to hit a high note and failed spectacularly. 

“Maybe after a few more. We should let them embarrass themselves first.”   
  
~|~

“So—“ 

“If you ask how Crosby is, I’m kicking your ass as soon as you land in Pittsburgh next week.” Marc interrupted his cousin before Tobias could even think of finishing his sentence. Though Marc didn’t seem overly annoyed. Sporting his usual pissed expression that left most everyone wondering what exactly it was that he was thinking. The digital clock next to the bed clicked to midnight, but Marc barely flinched. It was unlikely that he would be called into net tomorrow, but it still wouldn’t kill to get some rest soon. Ovechkin had yet to come back to the room, though. And if Marc knew anything, he knew that there would be no reason trying to sleep until Ovechkin was already passed out in the opposite bed. 

And so here he was, sketchbook on his lap, and the cousin he tolerated most on his laptop screen.

Tobias laughed, and Marc didn’t need to look up to know that he was blushing. At least he wasn’t as overwhelmingly annoying as he had been when Marc had first been drafted. It had calmed down, now. For the most part, it was a far different story when Tobias was face to face with his childhood crush. Marc didn’t want to say it out loud, but God he hoped Toby got sent down. Then, at least, he wouldn’t have to deal with this shit constantly. 

“How’s the Sharks? Want me to tell Timo anything during the game tomorrow?” The true mischief leaking through once more was hidden by Marc’s deadpan expression, not that Tobias hadn’t learned how to read through that by now.

“Don’t sabotage the only member of my team, thanks. Or at least get a video of it if you do.” Marc looked up to see Tobias’ grin, his own lips twitching briefly upwards. “Seriously though, nah. He’s an annoying little prick when I’m working with him, but he’s far enough away that I don’t care.”

Marc’s shoulders shrugged, eyes dropping back to the sketch coming to life below his pencil lead. “Your loss.”

“Mom wants to get the family together for Christmas, by the way. You gonna go?” 

“Do either of us have a choice? Grandma will kill us in our sleep if we don’t go so she has something to brag about on Facebook.” Tobias scoffed, though he still sounded pleased that at least someone was bragging about his hockey skills. 

Marc hummed in agreement, jumping when the door opened suddenly to reveal an absolutely smashed Ovechkin. Marc hoped he could play tomorrow, but found himself not really caring in the long run. Ovechkin was talking at him in Russian, but Marc couldn’t understand him, so he was ignored. 

“—anyways. I’m gonna get some sleep. You have that media event tomorrow, right? Good luck.” Marc put his sketchbook away as he spoke.

“Yup. Talk to you tomorrow, if a fan does any fucked up shit I’ll text you. G’night.” Tobias had already hung up by the time Marc was back in front of the camera. Not that he took any offence to it. It was just how they were.

Switching off the lamp next to the bed, Marc tried to fall asleep to the sound of Ovechkin singing through a mouthful of toothpaste. 

~|~

The game went just about as planned the next day. Other than a few uh— surprises. Including Mario going at multiple people, though specifically O’Reilly and Crosby, finally getting a penalty and being benched for the rest of the game. Much to his annoyance and the coach’s anger. Halfway through the second period, Cole puked up his hangover on the bench, then went on for his next shift a few minutes later like nothing happened. Not to mention Roman swiping his own captains feet out from under him during a small scrum in front of the net. No penalty was called, though the smugness on Romans face almost certainly called for one.

As quickly as it had begun, all-star weekend was over. Metropolitan division winning the title for the next season, and everyone preparing to go back to their regular scheduled lives. 

Few tears were shed for the end. All in all, all star was more exhausting than it was fun. And Christ knows the sheer amount of rivalries that grew exponentially when everyone was forced into close quarters was more than enough for everyone to want to go back to their own teams and locker rooms. 

By the next day, near everyone was back at home, preparing once more for the games coming up fast after a weekend of barely anything. Philadelphia was quiet again, secure in their all star win, at least until next year's crew tore it all up once more. 

Nothing is permanent in the world of hockey, but it was fun enough in the moment. 


End file.
